But—
I know, I think I was in shock too when he called and told me. I had to sit down. I didn’t think that happened to people. I just sat on the floor and cried. He was very understanding. He talked me through the whole thing.
So how…?
You’re gonna love this: he doesn’t know.
He doesn’t know?
He said some women, a small fraction, once diagnosed, can go on to have children, but it’s dependent on them ovulating, even if very infrequently.
And that’s not something you’ve done?
I mean, I can’t remember last time I had a period. It’s been years.
You tell him that?
Sure, he knows that, she said. But he says sometimes these things just happen, and we should be happy when they do. Said that there’s plenty in the world to worry about, so why add to it?
Harrison didn’t say anything.
Look, she said, I know it’s a shock. You get used to one thing then everything gets turned on its head, but this—this is amazing— It’s a goddamn miracle, is what it is, he said, cracking a grin. My beautiful wife! he said, banging his hands on the table. We need to celebrate!
Well amen to that!
Wait—everything’s okay with the baby, right? I mean, does the condition—is it dangerous?
Everything’s fine, Grace said. No reason why there should be any problems. No reason at all.
Doc Roberts say that?
He did.
And you’re seeing him again?
Next Tuesday.
Next Tuesday.
Wanna come?
No thank you, he said.
There you go, she said.
He drunk his coffee and stared at her.
So, May, huh? he said.
Yup.
Guess I’d better figure out a nursery.
Pancho proclaimed it a genuine miracle by Jesus Christ himself and cleared a prime space on the wall above the bar for the first baby photo. She said it was about time they had some goddamn life in the place instead of a bunch of pudknockers who couldn’t fly for hog-shit. The men hollered at the swollen moon and the coyotes howled at the men. At midnight Pancho threw the others out and fetched a bottle of Glenfiddich that she said Howard Hughes had given her on Hell’s Angels and Glennis raised a toast and Pancho insisted they call the baby Florence if it came out a girl and Grace laughed and said we’ll see and they talked and drank til dawn.
Ridley lit a cigarette, sighed, sat down at his desk. Harrison was listening to the radio. It was early April. The sky was cyanide blue.
You still listening? Ridley said across the room.
Uh-huh.
Why in God’s name are they holdin a press conference before anyone’s gone up?
Beats the hell outta me.
Who’s that?
That, my friend, is Walter Bonney, Harrison said. The NASA’s director of public relations. Listen in, it’s quite a show.
What’s goin on?
Well, they got all seven of the Project Mercury pilot-volunteers sat up there onstage and Bonney’s got the press askin them questions.
Bet they love that, Ridley said.
Nobody’s asked them about their flyin experience yet though; not a damn word on it.
What they talkin about then?
You want a coffee? Harrison said.
Yeah.
Harrison walked over to the pot. The question just asked, he said, pouring them each a cup, was if their wives or children had anything to say about them volunteerin for the program.
You’re not serious, Ridley said, sitting forward in his chair.
Sure am, Harrison said.
What the hell they say to that?
Not much.
Figures.
Until they got to Glenn.
The coast-to-coast guy?
Yeah, Harrison said. Glenn comes out with a whole goddamn speech about how he couldn’t go on with something like this without the backing he gets at home. Starts talkin about his wife’s attitude to his flyin career—the whole thing; I swear, I nearly choked up he was so goddamn sincere.
Since when does the attitude of his wife—
Beats me. Here—
He handed Ridley a mug.
Thanks.
Then he was off again talkin about church and Sunday school and God and family— Who shoved an apple pie up his ass? Ridley said.
Not the Marines I’m guessin, Harrison said. You see him on that show?
Hmm, yeah; think so.
Name That Tune.
With the kid singer?
Yeah.
Charming sonofabitch.
Yeah.
Harrison sat down with his coffee and turned up the volume on the radio.
Why are they having a press conference again? Ridley said.
To introduce the world to America’s first astro-nauts, Harrison said. He sipped his coffee. You hear what I been hearin?
Sending a monkey up first? Jesus, I laughed my ass hard off when Walker told me.
Funniest damn thing I ever heard, Harrison said. A monkey’s gonna make the first flight!
Oh, boy, Ridley said, beginning to laugh.
A guy called from some newspaper yesterday, Harrison said. Told me he wanted to ask the X-15 pilots how we felt about not being part of Project Mercury.
What’d you say?
I told him Project Mercury didn’t really require a pilot, there wasn’t any real flyin involved. Plus I didn’t want to sweep monkey shit off the seat before I sat down.